


Supplication of esoterica

by Yamayuandadu



Category: Touhou Project
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Historical References, Literary References & Allusions, Married Couple, Mythology References, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2020-10-27 00:01:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20750963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yamayuandadu/pseuds/Yamayuandadu
Summary: Requests from my tumblr.1. Shanghai, Mayumi, crush2. Narumi, Mayumi, heartbeat3. Keine, Mokou, stitches4. Eika, Shou, friendship5. Kanako, Keiki, only human6. Eiki, Narumi, keeping a secret7. Junko, Hecatia, wedding





	1. Shanghai, Mayumi, crush

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by tumblr user firesidesandfairytales.

Shanghai stealthily observed the room where business was usually conducted in the Margatroid household from her comfortable hideout at one of the bookshelves. While in theory a simple construct such as an animated doll shouldn’t have much free will to go around, spending a lot of time around magicians meant basking in their individualism and gradually absorbing it – and her exposure to them was counted in centuries by now, thanks to her creator’s refusal to part with any magical items. Of course, her parts had to be swapped, upgraded or repaired many times since, leaving very little of the doll a teenage Alice Margatroid, the Seven-Colored Puppeteer made when she first started investigating her eventual path of career, but as long as she saw the doll as one and the same, her consciousness would remain that of Shanghai.

“My name is Mayumi Joutougu. I have been told by the magician Marisa Kirisame that you are the finest artisan of this realm,” a visitor clad in antiquated armor explained to Alice as another of the dolls poured them tea. “My master, lady Keiki Haniyasushin, sculptor god of the Garden of Humanity, wishes to obtain samples of local crafts for her collection and for research purposes, as recent events made her curious about Gensokyo and its inhabitants. Naturally she’s willing to pay any price you’ll name, or provide other artifacts of comparable value in exchange.”

That exposition was par for the course. The magician who brought her to life was unquestionably the best at more than one craft in Gensokyo and beyond and as elusive as she was most of the time, her fame spread far and wide, creating rather high demand for her wares.

“Do you have anything made by her you can show me? I’d like to evaluate her skill before naming my price and preferred payment method,” the dollmaker replied cautiously.

“My body”, Mayumi stated unceremoniously. “I am a haniwa made by lady Keiki.”

If Shanghai could talk, she would’ve been screaming. However, as all of the dolls were mute, all she could do was stare bug-eyed (both figuratively and literally. Her current pair of beady black eyes was based on the composite eyes of a housefly fairy, reverse engineered through painstaking magical effort by Alice) at the phenomenon which manifested so unexpectedly in her life.

Usually the visitors left no impression on her. The most frequent ones were her maker’s fellow magicians, the group closest to being acceptable, even though their pursuits were much less noble than Alice’s own. Completely mundane human craftsmen from the village came fairly often, too, usually in order to ask for advice or commission specific elements they couldn’t develop themselves. Occasionally one tengu or another would show up, when an outfit too unorthodox for their resident tailors was needed, but youkai pride made it impossible to deal with normal humans like, say, a rokurukubi would. Simply put, they were all people a high class doll like herself had no interest in. People driven by vulgar organic hydraulics or their faith-based imitations. Something that required no real effort to craft – they could easily produce copies of themselves without much thought, as if they wanted to mock the work of honest craftsmen. This one was different. While easy to mistake for a human from a distance, she too was the product of some form of sorcery. This filled Shanghai with a feeling she never experienced before.

“A haniwa? That’s not an option particularly many of us in this field go for nowadays, but… I have to admit you’re one of the most finely crafted examples I ever had the pleasure to witness.. Very lifelike, yet distinctly rooted within an esteemed artistic tradition. Lady Keiki must be tremendously skilled.”

“She is”, agreed Mayumi. “As I understand we will reach an agreement easily now?”

Shanghai didn’t listen anymore. All she wanted to do was to observe the unusual client. This feeling didn’t go away even after the haniwa left their house, burdened by more magical crafts than some fabled treasuries were said to contain. In fact, it seemed to only become stronger. Her doll mind had a lot of trouble with figuring out why did she want to be carried around by someone who didn’t craft her.

After a few days, she finally managed to figure out the cause. Mayumi’s limbs moved without effort despite lacking any visible joints. Shanghai couldn’t help but admire that, which was obviously why she kept seeing herself in these arms whenever she reminisced about the recent visit. To think such marvels wouldn’t come out of her mistress’ workshop first! Clearly all that she had to do to make the strange feeling disappear was to wait until Alice will inevitably manage to design her own version of this marvelous solution.


	2. Narumi, Mayumi, heartbeat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by tumblr user divine-regret-index-j.

Magicians typically don’t travel much. After all, their noble and honored tradition calls for conducting all magical research within a single room located on the top of a lonely tower in a falling apart castle located far from civilization (and particularly its specific extensions which can be broadly described as angry mobs bearing pitchforks and torches, or their equivalents). Any alleged magician who travels a lot is simply a charlatan, a mere snake oil salesman with no concern for the true values of magic. They bring a shame to this sacred profession.

Narumi wasn’t the most orthodox magician around – for starters, her body was an abandoned jizou statue, rather than that of a human with severe mercury poisoning and a plethora of breathing problems, an esteemed traditional form favored by practitioners of magic for centuries, if not millennia. Likewise, she didn’t embrace the staples of magician fashion. No pointy hats with wide brims, no dark robes clearly meant for someone just a little bit taller, and no comically large medallions with poorly sculpted magical symbols of dubious prominence. Nonetheless, she took a great pride in being an associate of an informal coven of the most prominent local practitioners of this noble profession, whose plentiful experiments with creating abominations against reason and most of the world’s popular religions brought her to life in the first place. For this reason, she tried to put at least some effort into maintaining the right kind of professional persona. Especially when it came to staying at home to conduct her rituals and experiments.

However, the allure of the news spreading through the land was simply too strong – strong enough to make her keen on temporarily leaving not only the Forest of Magic, but Genoksyo itself. Apparently, in a faraway land a deity keen on the exact same kind of tampering with the established natural order as at least some of Narumi’s associates reigned supreme. Due to limited available resources, this might’ve been both her best and only opportunity to study – and, perhaps even more importantly, to find a way to impress these whom she saw as responsible for letting her experience the wonders of life. Sure, the energy of the forest was accumulating passively regardless, but without conscious effort it would never be channeled towards a specific purpose. Narumi Yatadera, as a person, would never come to be if someone didn’t view the overgrown statue as a potential person first.

The journey through various planes of existence felt like a peculiar pilgrimage. For the first time ever, Narumi’s outfit actually seemed appropriate. Experiencing Gensokyo beyond the Forest of Magic was the awakening; crossing the Sanzu in a carelessly unguarded boat the sadhana; carefully navigating hell just to cross its border outside one of the established checkpoints the pursuit of true enlightenment. The sheer amount of life force she could feel as soon as the entered the realm of beasts, where souls face punishments worse than these offered by the uncountable hells as slaves to instinct, reassured her the effort was not in vain. All that was left in this bizarre imitation of the famous route leading through Shikoku was reaching nirvana itself, which awaited inside the area apparently referred to as the Garden of Humanity, where the authority she wanted to consult resided, according to a variety trustworthy sources and even more trustworthy gossips spread by Marisa. Why would any deity choose to manifest here of all places, especially one with such a peculiar skill set, was beyond her comprehension, she’ll have more than enough opportunities to ask once her apprenticeship starts.

Sadly, something put a stop to the statue’s journey at the one last gate she had to sneak through. As she quickly noted after the very brief moment of annoyance turned into pure, unbridled excitement, the obstacle also seemed to be a simulacrum of a person imbued with the gift of life, much like her. The ultimate confirmation that what she was after was there. The sacred art of creating hosts for life itself. The purest, most important form of magic. Her chance to impress her peers and make a name for herself among Gensokyo’s established magicians.

“No outsiders can go further,” exclaimed the guard. “I will personally guarantee lady Keiki’s peace won’t be disturbed ever again.”

Upon closer examination, Narumi had to admit that despite the nature of their lifeforce seeming quite similar, the stranger and her belonged to two separate worlds. She was much bigger, for starters – while the average jizou was barely bigger than a child, the guard’s form would likely stand out among the villagers back at home. The craftsman who prepared her body must’ve been much more skilled than the stonemason who made Narumi long ago, too. Arguably even Alice’s dolls would seem somewhat simplistic in comparison to her; even what seemed like marks of recent repairs hinted at skill beyond that possessed by anyone in Gensokyo. Fine lines of golden lacquer ran through the left side of her face, probably as a memento of sustained injuries, perfectly embodying the ideals of kintsukuroi.

“I only wish to see her to ask if she would let me temporarily study under her,” the former jizou replied calmly. Despite the threatening stance of her opponent, she decided she won’t budge. If anything, her feeling that her destiny awaits here has only been reaffirmed.

“How can I know this is not another scheme? I can’t let her down again!”

Narumi observed the club pointed at her carefully. A bit crude, but perfectly balanced, arguably. With a rather neat decorative callback to the burial offerings from the ancient era of mounds and clay figures.

“Please listen to me. All I want to do is pass through these gates and meet with your master. I understand she matters a lot to you and I wish her no harm,” she explained slowly.

Mayumi lowered her weapon, but didn’t say anything. She knew she was overreacting. It was only natural. For centuries she did the opposite, and the consequences were disastrous. The repairs she required were just a minor inconvenience, but lady Keiki’s image as an infallible guarantee of safety was damaged, and that could not be repaired quite as easily. Lady Keiki, who gave hope to this wretched world.. Lady Keiki, whose hands made her body. Lady Keiki, whose words guided directionless faith and turned it into life.

While the intruder didn’t seem intimidating in any capacity, she couldn’t let her guard down.

“All I want is to be able to show gratitude to the people who gave me a heartbeat, I’m sure you understand that,” Narumi smiled faintly. “And I believe that I can only advance my studies enough to gain their admiration under lady Keiki’s guidance. Because her mastery of the life-giving craft transcends the boundaries of this realm.”

The haniwa shook her head. That was not a possibility she expected. And while unlike Narumi she was incapable of telling at first glance what sort of being she had in front of her, some features of the visitor did point rather clearly at her origin – the simple features of her face, the slightly greyish tint of her skin… Naturally, she wasn’t anywhere near the level of the idols sculpted by the greatest divine artisan in existence, but in a way they were similar. And, most importantly, she too seemed to uniquely value Keiki. Perhaps letting her in would help with rebuilding her mistress’ public image? The jizou mentioned she has associates she wants to impress. Surely she’ll mention who taught her once she gets to presenting her newfound abilities to them. Spreading Keiki’s glory to a whole new world…

Underneath layers of clay, a heart formed out of the faith of thousands of abandoned, hopeless spirits started beating faster.

“I understand. To deny you your wish would be to deny all I believe in,” Mayumi finally responded. “You can pass.”


	3. Mokou, Keine, stitches

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by tumblr user queenofqueezledom.

“Would you kindly explain what did you do to yourself this time?”

“Can’t you see that yourself?”

“I can see the result, but the cause is completely shrouded in mystery for me,” Keine sighed. “You were left to own devices for less than two weeks since end of the school year is an extremely busy period for me, and what I come back to is… this,” she added, pointing at Mokou’s shirt. The sleeves were torn off.

To be fair, she saw her clothes in much worse condition more than a few times before. Not to mention the situations where her condition was so bad there were no clothes to speak of left. However, that was long ago, and this specific shirt was supposed to be Mokou’s small triumph over her hopeless nihilism. Under Keine’s guidance, the immortal put her largely theoretical knowledge of fire magic to practical use and changed her favorite (or rather the only one not yet falling apart from old age) shirt into something that could withstand at least some of her spells. Wearing something that didn’t look like burnt rags greatly contributed towards gaining a degree of trust among the human community of Gensokyo. This in turn allowed her get something akin to a job as a guide to the bamboo forest, and, perhaps even more beneficially, minimized the risk of being mistaken for a yamanba.

Naturally, it wasn’t the finest magical article of clothing around. The charms attached on the inside were crude and most of them ended up applied haphazardly, as Keine lacked experience with mundane magic, while Mokou was not interested in tailoring. The odds that an emissary of heaven would knock at doors of their houses to discuss the issue of illegal production of counterfeit hagoromo didn’t seem particularly high. But they made it together, and, more importantly, it symbolized that the last living child of Fujiwara no Fuhito started caring about her own well-being. As such, it was an important symbol.

“It’s just the usual, I felt bad about myself,” mumbled the immortal.

A number of gruesome scenarios involving the loss at least of limbs flashed in front of Keine’s eyes. She never witnessed any firsthand, thankfully, but any attempt at writing down Mokou’s history inevitably involved some of them.

“Did you go back to fighting Kaguya?”

“No. I didn’t really leave the house. Only checked on my persimmon tree a few times.”

“What did you do, then?”

“I wanted to go back to my old habits but I didn’t want to make you upset,” Mokou said, looking around awkwardly. “So while I resisted the urge to seek thrills at Eientei I still felt like I did something wrong by considering to restart it.”

“I’m not quite following…?”

“The obvious way would be to hurt myself in some way. But that’s exactly what I was supposed to avoid, so I had to think of something else to not end up in a vicious circle again. So in a fit of grief I ended up cutting off the sleeves from my shirt, since we made it impervious to my powers together and it’s important to me. It was not very smart, I know.”

Mokou closed her eyes, expecting a reprimand. After a brief moment she realized that no stern words are coming and Keine instead wrapped her arms around her.

Of course, the shirt was a symbol. But ultimately a symbol is less important than what it stands for is in itself. That was the logic the teacher subscribed to.

“This means that you’re making progress regarding your respect for own life, I’m proud of you”, she said, hugging Mokou. “We can stitch the sleeves back on, don’t worry.”

It is known that kisses are vital for clothing repairs, though they can extend their duration quite a bit. Thus everything that unfolded afterwards was just a regular sewing session, ultimately. Just some stitching and strictly related activities.


	4. Eika, Shou, friendship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by tumblr user lorkhantheman.

“Hurry, master! We’re already here, no need to lose your resolve now, after crossing the treacherous Sanzu. We can’t be late to this meeting,” complained Nazrin, professional messenger of a prominent Buddhist divinity, semi-professional leader of a large number of rodents and unprofessional scavenger. “Lord Bishamonten, He Who Listens to Many Teachings, He Who Bestows Wealth, Protector of the North, et cetera et cetera personally tasked me with guiding you there, I cannot let him down.”

“I’m still not sure why he wants us to visit Sai no Kawara of all places. No sutras or hymns or anything like that link him with the afterlife, you know?”, Shou dismissed her concerns after she also disembarked from a boat. She too was a professional, perhaps to an even greater degree than her mouse-like companion. Professional high-ranked clergywoman, professional manifestation of the aforementioned prominent Buddhist divinity, and most importantly the most potent professional good luck charm in all of Gensokyo. Selling Shou paraphernalia was one of the main sources of revenue to the Myouren temple, as her ability to attract wealth was renowned among the villagers and youkai alike.

“There’s more to venerable lord Bishamonten than just sutras, you know,” the rat youkai sighed. Shou was, arguably, the most competent disciple her god has ever had. She was simultaneously incredibly naive about the way in which religious matters were conducted most of the time. Perhaps that’s what helped her rise so far despite her humble origin as a half manifested tiger youkai on some long forgotten mountain. “For gods, folk tradition is every bit as important as theological doctrine. And for him in particular, the key to remaining relevant is being a source of luck. Since luck is a finite resource, it’s in our best interest to stay on good terms with the other gods dealing with it, so that its reserves don’t run out, leading to a loss of faith. It’s a system beneficial to everyone,” she recited the official joint statement of the Seven Gods of Fortune, delivered to all their high ranking underlings many centuries ago. “Naturally, it is only meant to further the Buddhist cause. By providing followers with good fortune and material wealth, lord Bishamonten ensures they have more time to focus on spiritual pursuits rather than concerns with the woes of the material plane.”

“I’m astonished with this new doctrine,” the clergywoman smiled. If this came from anyone else, her follower would assume it’s a mockery of baffling business practices. However, as it came from her of all people, the odds that the statement wasn’t genuine were too low to seriously consider them. She was easily impressed by anything with even the most flimsy theological justification. Perhaps that trait was what made Nazrin so keen on staying around to guarantee her well-being, despite the former tiger youkai being deemed just competent enough to be left completely to own devices. Naturally, this sort of blind faith was a virtue, and could solve many problems; however, there were many religious affairs which required swindles, trickery and a bit of intimidation instead. And for Shou to be able to remain the way she was, Nazrin had to be around to deal with all of them.

“I’m glad. That aside, here we are, like I said,” exclaimed Nazrin, pointing at a small hill with her dowsing rod. From a distance it didn’t seem remarkable in any way, much like the rest of the desolate river bank. “Behold, this is the great lord Ebisu’s dwelling.”

As Shou quickly noticed, a number of small, translucent entities seemed to move through the monotonous the landscape, carrying small objects to parts unknown. Thanks to familiarity with the ever popular hymns to Jizou, she recognized them as souls of children who died before their parents or never were born to begin with, stuck in a bizarre limbo with no reward and no punishment.

Reaching the top did not take much time, though the area was unexpectedly deceitful. The hill was in fact a pile of individual rocks, assembled so tightly they seemed to be one from a distance, but still prone to unexpected slides. Nonetheless, the two travelers persisted. They’ve been through much worse.

At the very top, among a crowd of the same minuscule beings they saw before already, a slightly different, though still diminutive spirit sat on a small pile of colorful stones. With a bit of goodwill it was possible to interpret her stance and expression as a sign she was expecting the visitors standing in front of her.

“Great lord Ebisu, we come here on the behalf of lord Bishamonten, your old ally. He wishes to reassure you that the seven-sided pact is still in effect, and sends his avatar to confirm it,” Nazrin explained to the little girl, bowing her head solemnly. Shou followed suit.

For someone referred to as a great lord, alleged Ebisu did not seem very imposing. In fact, even for a child she was a bit unremarkable, though by the standards of this realm her form was unusually solid. Solid, but still small and a bit sickly nonetheless. She was th exact kind of monarch one could expect in this pitiful realm. However, something about her still seemed genuinely regal enough to oblige everyone to feel the need bow in her presence. A spark of godhood carefully cultivated in this inhospitable land, maintained by followers so desperate that even the abandoned malformed child of a god was a great omen of luck to them. In a way, even if she wasn’t fully aware of it, she had access to faith more genuine than that available to some of the most prominent gods in the world outside.

“I’m happy my best friend still cares about me,” she replied happily. The mouse youkai noticed she was missing a few teeth – perhaps even stillborn gods eventually start to age past preschool. “We haven’t seen each other in a while, I was starting to get worried he forgot about me… But since you’re here, it’s all good. What’s your name? Mine is Eika, Eika Ebisu”, she asked, giving Shou a questioning look.

“I’m Shou Toramaru. I serve as an avatar of… your friend, as Nazrin said already,” she explained slowly. “I can fulfill any of his obligations. That’s what a god should do.”

There were many expectations she had to deal with, but somehow none of them seemed quite as complicated to fulfill as what she could see in the small god’s eyes. She was many things to many people. A role model. A sign of covenant with higher powers. A good luck charm. Even a friend in a few cases. But this was different. The matter required a much more careful approach. She bowed her head again, awaiting to hear what did the ruler of the land of forgotten children expect from her.

“Will you stay to play with me for a bit?”

Shou sent Nazrin a troubled look. The rodent youkai just shrugged in response.

“Take your time, master,” she sighed. It’d be pointless to try to convince her companion to go home after she decided something is a matter of religious duty.


	5. Kanako, Keiki, only human

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by tumblr user amicablestone.  
Set after the WBaWC Reimu ending with a premise eerily similar to Mountain of Faith.

Keiki looked fearfully at the inner sanctum the shrine maiden lead her to. She wasn’t sure what exactly the phrase “god of the mountain” uttered mockingly by another miko a few hours ago made her expect. Some sort of irrelevant harvest goddess, perhaps. Or the head of a forgotten monkey cult, slowly turning into a widely reviled yokai. Simply put, someone whose status among the extensive Shinto pantheon would be even lower than hers. That definitely did not describe the person she saw inside. In fact, she was mildly worried just making such assumptions on her way here could be considered some form of lèse-majesté.

Some details differed from what she has remembered, obviously. However, the antique mirror worn as a comically small breastplate was unmistakable. Perhaps it’d be more accurate to call it an eccentric necklace. It was as if the wearer was simply built on a marginally larger scale than humans. Even for a prominent god this was quite a bold idea – larger forms were difficult to maintain permanently and required a steady supply of faith. Keiki herself preferred remaining equally scrawny as her ancient, permanently suffering from malnutrition followers and current barely corporeal ones. The precious spiritual resource that is belief had many better uses for someone like her. Of course, she was a different kind of god, incapable of a truly regal approach like that – or at least that’s what she kept telling herself.

“I’m terribly sorry”, she exclaimed, awkwardly attempting to turn around as quickly as she could.“I had no clue that the honored Takeminakata, grand chancellor of upper and lower Suwa, dwells in this sanctuary. I’ll remove myself from these premises instantly, your majesty” she added with fearful reverence, trying to find her guide before panic would get a chance to take over her mind for good. Of all possible gods it had to be her! Only running into her own family would be worse. It’d be a different kind of problem, perhaps even more difficult to handle, of course, but knowing this was only the second most troublesome option to deal with didn’t exactly make it any easier. Especially for someone whose interpersonal skills were rather rusty.

“Wait,” the other god exclaimed, raising her hand. “Nobody called me that in ages. Who are you? You don’t seem to be one of the small gods from the foothills who visit every now and then.”

Keiki stopped in her tracks, surprised by the unexpectedly calm tone. Was she mistaken? Was this another god, just occasionally confused by onlookers with the venerable lordling? It’s been over a thousand years since she last visited the human world, to be fair. Things might’ve changed.

“Haniyasu no Kami…”, she uttered with uncertainty. “No, Keiki Haniyasushin,” she corrected herself. It was a risky gamble if her assumptions were correct, but there was no reason not to use the name she crafted for herself, alongside her faraway kingdom of clay and arcane technology. It didn’t stand for anything radically different from the old one, obviously, but reasserting her self-made status and a new role in the grand scheme of things was reassuring.

Purported Takeminakata stroked her chin.

“Emperor Suinin’s haniwa girl? The sculptor god who first provided the statues and pretty much defined funerary fashion for a while?”

“That’s me, your majesty,” confirmed Keiki. “Things have changed considerably since then due to the shameful decline of burial mounds’ popularity, I’m afraid. I had to turn to different means of maintaining faith in me. This indirectly lead me here, into your humble abode. Is it a temporary shelter? I remember your grandiose palace from back when I visited the imperial court…”

“This is my only shrine.”

“With all due respect, are you joking, your majesty? As the heir to the rulers of Ashihara no Nakatsukuni surely you have many more monumental sites dedicated to your name?”

“I’m not a heir to anything anymore. And I would appreciate if you stopped acting so dismissively about this place, I fought hard to keep it. Also, I don’t really go by Takeminakata nowadays, that name attracts a lot of negative attention,” she sighed, giving her right arm a meaningful glance, hoping the other god is at least vaguely familiar with certain developments in supernatural geopolitics. Said developments revolved around certain kind of gods descending upon her old domain, miscalculations about own physical strength, and Suwako sneering a tiny bit too much while patching her up afterwards. “My current name is Kanako. God of this mountain, god of lakes, god of forests, god of agriculture, the nuclear revolution and much, much more. I handle weddings and such if someone doesn’t want to go to the Buddhists for that, as well. You have to know how to adapt to the market, you see. I’m just not in charge of Ashihara no Nakatsukuni. I’m not even sure if such a thing still really exists, honestly, and even if it does there’s new management in charge.”

“May I ask how come?”

Of course, many people find it hard to keep up with recent politics, Keiki’s ignorance wasn’t anything uncommon. The issue was simply that to her the arrival of the Hata clan from the continent constituted recent politics.

“Long story short, gods of heaven fought gods of earth. And I lost,” Kanako sighed. There was no point to dwell upon this, as she kept telling herself, so making the explanation brief was the best course of action, obviously. She managed to scrape by, even though most of her vassals swore allegiance to the invaders, and remaining ones disappeared one by one as faith kept declining century by century. It was just her and Suwako now. Meeting earthly gods who would actually remember what unfolded in detail was uncommon.

“I thought heavenly gods stay in heaven,” Keiki mumbled quietly, once again remembering her pariah status among her siblings, almost all of them proud members of the celestial courts and guilds, as far as she could remember. Well, all apart from one, cast into the sea and promptly forgotten, but the less she thought about that, the better. It was probably only her completely unremarkable nature that spared her from similar fate, given the comparably impure circumstances of her birth. “Are they still here?”

“No, not really. All that high and mighty rabble went back home as soon as they decided we had enough. And took most of our faith with them,” Kanako explained. “Faith they didn’t even earn. It’s a soul-crushing experience to see gods who worked hard to earn their position stripped of it like that, slowly turning into nothing but boogeymen, if they’re lucky,” she continued, not fully aware how fearsome recollecting the past events made her look.

“But you’re still here, as far as I can tell,” Keiki noted fearfully.

“I am. There’s a small secret to it,” Kanako smiled. “I wouldn’t tell it anyone else, but you’re a fellow god, so I suppose it’s fine. It’s an industry secret. While you have to remember you’re a god when handling faith, you must also think of yourself as one with the humans on some level to be able to do that in the first place. Most gods started as the memory of a human, anyway, even me. To pretend otherwise leads to certain doom, even if I’d never admit that around my followers.”

“I like humans,” Keiki smiled. “Nothing wrong with that, your majesty,” she reassured the other god in the most naively trustful tone she was capable of. Given her penchant for naively trustful declarations, honed by centuries of secluded lifestyle, it was well beyond the level most people were capable of.

“It’s nice to reminisce every now and then, but now that I think of it, I didn’t get to ask why did you even come here,” Kanako stated after an awkward pause. Further exploring the clearly inevitable philosophical downfall of her past opponents would likely just be met with more similar meaningless reactions. “Got any business in Gensokyo?”

“Oh, I’m glad we can finally get to that,” Keiki smiled even more broadly than before. From the moment she stepped through the door of the inner sanctum she stopped expecting an opportunity will arise, but as soon as it did she was more than eager to seize it regardless. “You see, after coming into contact with people from the human world for the first time in ages, I realized there’s a lot I could do to extend my power, and thus also the degree to which I can aid the souls under my auspice. And since we’re on friendly terms now, after sharing all these trade secrets, I assume it’s fine to ask you if you’ll take my offer and let me connect your shrine to my idol grid? We’ll split the faith harvested from them,” she explained, gesticulating fervently. “I have a few samples with me, if you have any concerns about potentially clashing aesthetics,” she added, carefully arranging a few small clay sculptures previously kept in the many pockets of her apron in front of Kanako. “I put a lot of effort in each, they’re true masterpieces, if I dare say so myself.”

Kanako critically evaluated the crafts presented to her while her visitor kept babbling about preferred kinds of kilns and other similarly riveting matters. There was an unmistakable degree of disregard for social mores in the way she acted, as expected from someone who didn’t visit this world in over a thousand years. However, this specific kind of ineptitude, easy to mistake for aloofness, was arguably beneficial for a god. And more gods around mean a more competitive environment, which in turn means more faith to harvest… Perhaps from a certain point of view it was in her best interest to help the newcomer flourish. It’s not like she could make this kind of idols herself, either. Sure, Sanae did… draw every now and then, but her artistic pursuits, while admirable, did not suit shrine’s purposes. Additionally, the goddess couldn’t help but miss the good old days a little bit, when the earth was littered with gods like them. It was impossible to bring it back, but perhaps preserving a tiny remnant of that world wasn’t out of her reach?

“What dividend can I expect if I agree?”

“I thought of a 70-30 split, since the resources and labour are provided by me,” Keiki replied surprisingly calmly. Perhaps all gods have a penchant for business deep down.

“I’d handle the marketing, though, since you don’t know the local market. I’m very serious about marketing, you know,” the other god remarked.

“60-40 maybe? You’ll still hold the majority.”

“Fine, but I want some of the figures to be personalized to better match my shrine’s needs. Out of curiosity, can you sculpt snakes? And frogs?”


	6. Eiki, Narumi, keeping a secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by tumblr user purenguyening.

If there was one thing hell was unquestionably good at, even during its current period of decline, it was propaganda meant for external consumption.  
  
The tales spread by mortals presented it as the ideal judiciary. Presence of such vital elements as perfectly kept registries, always punctual trials, swiftly dispensed rewards and punishments and worms living inside every person's body capable of relaying any information about them to the yamas was common knowledge.  
  
It was for the best that the living didn't know the aforementioned precise system of mass invigilation was shut down, and there was no point in engaging in esoteric rituals mean to placate the worms. The reason was a mix of ethical concerns and hell's hell of its own making, as constant issues with funding were euphemistically referred to in hushed tones by its employees.  
  
As a result, information was actually quite difficult to obtain in hell.  
  
Granted, almost everything was difficult there. It was a miracle the mass uplifting of jizou which defined the current shape of hell's main demographic wasn't shut down halfway through because the necessary financial resources mysteriously evaporated.  
  
Eiki Shiki, elevated by a lucky linguistic turn of events to the rank of Highest Judge of Paradise from functionally identical, but less grandiose position of Highest Judge of Kublai Khan's Capital, had to obtain the information she currently needed on her own.  
  
This meant spending a plenty of precious free time personally verifying hearsay and gossips to reach this place. Even if she could access the registries for such a frivolous goal, they wouldn't be of much help. The entity she was seeking didn't come to life through conventional means.  
  
The house she inhabited was once a roadside shrine barely big enough to house a jizou statue. While it expanded considerably since sentience was bestowed upon the being residing within by combined forces of fate and magical pollution filling the forest, its original character was still clearly recognizable in the entrance's shape.  
  
As Eiki's main informant claimed the purported animated statue rarely leaves her home, she opened the door without hesitation. Agents of cosmic justice were, after all, not bound by common courtesy.  
  
“I am looking for Naruko Yatadera,” she exclaimed to announce her arrival.  
  
“Narumi,” the sole inhabitant of the house corrected her. Arrival of a guest wasn't enough to get her to turn around; she continued diligently working on something. “Did Marisa send you here? She keeps getting my name wrong whenever she mentions my existence to other people...”  
  
She certainly looked like a jizou, that much was certain. The very epitome of them, as a matter of fact. Her robes and customary red cloth wrapped around her shoulders could be used as contents of the jizou entry in a visual dictionary.  
  


“The witch Marisa Kirisame merely informed me about your whereabouts, I am not here on her behalf,” Eiki clarified, carefully looking around.  
  
The building, despite being inhabited by a supernatural being, didn't seem any bigger on the inside than it was on the outside. It was filled with haphazard shelves, and these in turn were filled with jars.  
  
Most of them contained small balls of light, some submerged in liquids, some floating freely. A few contained broken objects whose original purpose was difficult to deduce.  
  
Their labels seemed to follow some esoteric numbering system but provided no real clue about the nature of the contents.  
  
“Are you a magician, by chance? I asked Marisa if she could help me get in touch with someone I could study with,” Narumi asked. She put a new jar on the shelf to her left and finally turned around.  
  
Much like her general form and her clothes, her face was suitably jizou-like. Round to the point looking at her too long would be slightly unnerving for someone unaccustomed to it.  
  
“I am not, I'm afraid,” Eiki sighed. Being mistaken for a practitioner of shady occult arts felt very unprofessional. Sure, king Enma and king Taizan had their fair share of such esoteric dealings back in the day, but this was an outlier, not the norm. “I'm the yama of Gensokyo. And, like you, I was once a jizou.” she explained.  
  
“How does that work? I thought yamas are a kind of celestial being,” Narumi inquired before Eiki could reveal the purpose behind her visit.  
  
“It all started with a pact meant to cement the gongen status of his holiness lord Jizou and his highness king Enma. Despite certain disputed clauses, it elevated many of our kind to the rank of yamahood,” she recited monotonously out of habit. She knew the fabled gongen bill of 710 by heart, like most of her peers.  
  
“So jizou come to life often? Please tell me more!”  
  
“Truth to be told, that's what I wanted to talk about,” Eiki squirmed, unsure how to deal with the unexpected enthusiasm. “We – that is, the Ministry of Right and Wrong, of which I am but a lowly servant - have a monopoly for uplifting statues of relevant figures, you see.”  
  
“This doesn't check out, I think,” Narumi replied slowly, stroking her chin. “While it's hard to get anything conclusive out of Marisa and miss Alice, both of them are fairly certain my awakening was spontaneous. No ministries of any sort were involved, just an accumulation of stray spells and such.”  
  
“That's the issue here, I'm afraid,” Eiki stuttered. “This isn't very common. There was a lot of trouble back in the day when some old man from Hokurikudo brought a few jizou to life, for example.”  
  
“Are you implying I'm a problem? I'm not going to tolerate that, I have my pride.” Narumi's voice remained calm, but a seasoned observer of jizou behavior was able to tell easily that the tranquil tone was merely an act of courtesy now.  
  
A few sparks of colorful light flashed between her fingers.  
  
“I don't want to enforce our monopoly,” Eiki protested, alarmed by her fellow jizou's gesture. Naturally, danmaku was hardly an issue, she would be able to win with spell card rules in place or without them. This didn't mean she was keen on participating in any fights, though. “It feels wrong to deny a being like me the same kind of life I've been granted. I only want to know if you are living... morally?”  
  
“Morality is the most potent of all egregores, formed from the combined mental force of all sentient beings. It's natural for a magician to adhere to it out of respect,” Narumi replied, baffled by the question. “I want to set a good example for any potential objects which would follow in my footsteps. Gathering promising half-manifested spirits and almost complete tsukomogami is a responsibility only a person of flawless character can handle.”  
  
“Is this what all these jars contain?”  
  
“Yes, more or less. Most of them, at least, I have a few more exotic specimen too. Mostly spells which refused to fade away, I call them bullet golems,” Narumi smiled broadly, pointing at a few of the containers. She had not felt this proud of herself ever since her magician friends accepted her as a member of their loose association. “It is known that everyone and everything possesses an innate Buddha nature. By studying magic, I can help even objects attain it.”  
  
“Every soul craves to ascend further and further,” Eiki said quietly, more to herself than to her interlocutor.  
  
“Exactly! See, not only I'm absolutely not doing anything wrong, I'm in fact following in lord Jizou's footsteps.”  
  
Eiki had to admit this comparison wasn't entirely unfair. And perhaps, given the troubled situation hell has found itself in, jizou coming to life spontaneously are, in fact, adhering to the law more than anyone? It's not like a second mass uplifting could take place now, but there are evidently many souls in need of guidance.  
  
“Indeed, lord Jizou went to preach to these nobody else wanted to help,” she exclaimed slowly, trying to sound sufficiently official. “For this reason, this meeting and your pursuits shall remain a secret between us. Regardless of what the law says.”  
  
She could swear this declaration made all the jars shine a bit brighter.


	7. Junko, Hecatia, wedding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by the proofreader who helps me with A Journey to Yomi, among other things.

Hecatia finished sorting a pile newspaper clippings. Most pertained to her professional life in some way. International politics, the economic and demographic conditions of various hells, occasional breaches of the flimsy agreements which held the entire otherworld in one piece.  
  
Some were accounts of her visits in different worlds. At least one of them was responsible for the newspaper shutting down.  
  
Another stood out for a different reason. It very much pertained to her life, like the rest. Just not to its professional aspects – a surprisingly uncommon occurrence.  
  
Of course, carefully prepared packets of fabricated information pertaining to her private life were occasionally released in so-called “intelligence briefings” (yamas took everything very seriously) and other similar gossip magazines commonly published in Ministry-held territories. This was not one of such manufactured stories, however.  
  
It was a note informing the word the goddess of hell changed her marital status. Quite old, as evidenced by the fact it was illustrated with a woodblock print. The overwhelming majority of supernatural entities with stakes in the newspaper industry embraced photography reasonably quickly when it became available.  
  
“Do you remember when we got married, Junko?”  
  
Junko raised her head slowly and put a scroll containing instructions for her next planned lunar invasion down. Like many other plans, it was supposedly foolproof, and involved inciting a revolution of the downtrodden moon rabbit underclass with promises of freedom, equality and a dental care package.  
  
“Of course I do, what kind of question is this?”  
  
She was, supposedly, one of a kind. While this position in the official classification of spirits was occasionally challenged by certain experts, arguing she was effectively just a regular divine spirit, her unique role in Hecatia's life was indisputable. From this specific standpoint the “supposedly” was unnecessary.  
  
“I found the article about it again. The press couldn't believe it,” Hecatia smiled, pointing at the introductory paragraph.  
  
It was commonly believed the self-proclaimed goddess of hell was not the kind of person interested in settling down. She carefully maintained such a public image herself in the first place for a while.  
  
“You said you couldn't really believe it yourself, from what I remember,” Junko noted. “You were surprised when I accepted your proposal, weren't you?”  
  
“That's true,” Hecatia admitted. The article naturally didn't cover that. It did, however, cover the tax returns and voting record of majority of the attending guests, mostly elder yamas invested in Hectia's vision of justice more than maintaining good relations with a certain subset of celestial gods. “I didn't really expect that you'll return my feelings, let alone that we'll get this far.”  
  
“Neither did I, frankly. It was meant to be a purely professional agreement, with acting upon our largely overlapping grudges as its sole goal.”  
  
“But it ended up going into a slightly different direction...”  
  
“Slightly,” Junko nodded with a smile. “Asides from helping me with that, you taught me how to love again. So it was only natural to agree,” she continued after making sure their eyes were now locked. “I'm fairly certain I'm only the person I am currently thanks to you, and I couldn't love anyone else.”  
  
“I'm really glad to hear that once more,” Hecatia blushed. Junko seldom discussed her feelings directly. In fact, this was likely the first time since their wedding it happened. To be fair both of them were often too busy to talk about love. “It's almost as if we... got married again,” she stuttered. “You let me feel that all over again.”  
  
“But we can simply do it again, if you miss that sensation so much as your face indicates,” Junko replied. She spoke with absolute certainty, as usual. She believed calling herself a sagacious spirit required that. And she had quite a lot of experience with reading Hecatia's mood by now. For everyone else, she was incomprehensible, capable of playing endless games of pretend without her cover being blown. For Junko, she was an open book.  
  
“I mean, I guess? We can get a divorce, and then do it again, at least in theory,” Hecatia pondered. Thinking about the intricacies of hell's many different law systems, their overlaps, loopholes and contradictions let her regain her cool, or at least so she hoped..  
  
“That's not what I had in mind.”  
  
“What is it, then?”  
  
“You have three bodies. But I only married one,” Junko smiled. “Would a different Hecatia like to renew our vows, perhaps?”


End file.
